Page 45 of Getting Over You

“Don’t call me that, Cade.” I put my head in my hands, taking a breath. “It makes me confused.”

“I don’t call anybody else any nicknames,” he says. “I do it to you because it’s cute when you’re pissed off at me.”

I don’t reply.

“Princess?”

“I heard you,” I say. “Stop calling me that.”

“Sometimes you let me,” he sing-songs to the tune of the Almond Joy/Mounds theme, “sometimes you don’t.”

I fight laughter. He’s such an ass. “You are drunk, and you need to go to sleep.”

“I need a lot of things. To have sex. With you.”

“You’re drunk, and you’ll regret that tomorrow,” I tell him. “You’ll regret all this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong!” Cade says. “You think you know me. You don’t.”

“You’re right,” I reply. “I don’t know much of anything about you, aside from your desire for meaningless relationships. And the tattoos.” I pause, debating. “Can you tell me about them?” I might as well take a vulnerable, willing Cade while I have him.

“I’ve broken every girl’s heart I’ve been with,” he says. “That’s why I try to avoid that kind of thing.”

“You have the option not to break hearts,” I point out. I was asking about the tattoos, but if he’s willing to give me more, I’ll take it with open arms.

“I don’t.” Cade sits up in the bed, huffing. “Come sit with me. You shouldn’t be on the floor.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Besides, I’m afraid you’ll puke on me.”

“I won’t!” Cade whines. When I don’t move, he throws his body back onto the mattress. “It’s bad enough,” he says, eyes focused on the ceiling, “when you end a friends-with-benefits thing. She’s all teary, wants to know why she wasn’t enough. It wasn’t you—it’s never the girl. I’m a fucking heartless asshole who cares more about my career than a chick, and that’s the whole problem.”

“Do you tell them that?” I ask. “The girls you hurt. Do you tell them you’re running away from the love they want to give you because you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared,” Cade says.

“Then what’s your issue? You’re someone’s type, successful. Girls want you.”

“See, the problem is I destroy everything I touch,” he says. “And I don’t want to destroy you, Gigi.”

And just like that, Cade drops his match and my whole world is engulfed in flames.

Chapter sixteen

Iwake up with a stiff neck and a headache while everyone else—including Rory, conveniently on the couch—is still asleep. Cade got to rest after a while, and even though I had every intention of going home, I accidentally fell asleep on his bedroom floor hours after he was asleep. That’s what happens when I spend the night staring at his ceiling. I never imagined the events of last night being my introduction to Cade Deans’ bedroom. I was hoping for a lot more fun and a lot less crippling doubt.

I quietly pad my way to the kitchen. I can’t leave yet—Rory’s my ride—and there’s nothing I can busy myself with unless I want to hang out in Cade’s room and watch him sleep. I decide to make a pot of coffee. As the pot sputters, and I realize with disdain that there’s no clean mugs, Rory wakes up.

“Rory, hey.” I wave at her as she sits up and rubs her eyes free of exhaustion. “I’m making coffee.”

“Why the hell are you here?”

“It’s a long story,” I reply, breezy. “The short version is that Cade drunkenly crashed my date.”

Rory’s eyes widen. “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

“Holy shit. What’d he do?”

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